Electric Sky #8: Mid-Autumn Festival - Part 3/4 (Lin Moniao Series)

[ilthit]

Name: Mid-Autumn Festival - Part 3
Story: Lin Moniao Series (AO3 link)
Colors: Electric Sky #8 (Dark Heart Dawning)
Supplies and Styles: gesso; chiaroscuro, interactive art, life drawing, mural
Word Count: 16K
Rating: explicit (this part)
Warnings: Dual cultivation, mental break (willing), blackmail, results of torture, abuse and slavery, allusions to child abuse, graphic deadly violence committed by protagonist. In the next part: Suicide, poison, murder, betrayal.
Summary: The Illustrious Qilin Villa pursues its grudge to a deadly conclusion.
Note: Co-written with minutia_r . Also available in full and with illustrations on AO3 here. This part includes chapters 8 and 9 (differently numbered on AO3). Chonky chapters.

*

Chapter Eight: Cultivation

Notes: Starting off with a bang, aka this chapter earns the explicit rating.


They talk a little longer--over the possibility of pushing Lin Moniao's cultivation even harder and intentionally causing a qi deviation, and how Shi Minhua's intended assassination--political or otherwise--fits in. Even if Sha Zhengtian spearheads accusations against his superior, the Qilin Villa cannot expect to remain unnamed in the case, and they are already being watched by the Empire. On the other hand, an attempt on the man's life carries high risk, and it may be more risk than they cannot afford.

Mu Liqiang has been set up as another fake traitor; Mo Henshui has access to Shi Minhua's house; and they have Shi Jia. "Let's ask him," Master Wu says at last, and Shi Jia is called in, while Yu Long is sent to fetch Mu Liqiang, and so their little war conference is set up. The God escapes into the rafters, perhaps for the benefit of Yu Long and Shi Jia, who cannot seem to be able to take their eyes off Him until He is out of their sight entirely. The sect leader also retreats to the back of the room, listening, but letting Master Wu summarize. He leaves out any mention of prophecies of war.

Shi Jia must be invited to speak before he will open his mouth, but once he does, with some apologies and words of respect, he has many things to say.

"My uncle will have many layers of defenses in place, but ultimately his behavior is predictable in some ways. He cannot resist an opportunity to be cruel, unless there is a greater cruelty he can look forward to, even if it would be a mistake. He likes his pleasures. Furthermore nobody really likes him. At most, people think he is a reprobate but efficient. He may have a hold on many people, but he has nobody's sympathy, not even his own family's. He will--" Shi Jia takes a break to breathe out. "He will have people kept in captivity at his house. He is, most likely, a loyal tool of Bureau Four, because they can protect him and his wealth even as they use him. Without them, he would have few goals beyond pleasure. If he is interested in the Qilin Villa, it is because Bureau Four is, and if Bureau Four is interested, it is almost certainly to do with--excuse me--the sect leader's history with Prince Zhao Fei. Unless there are deeper reasons that this Shi Jia does not know of or understand."

Master Wu nods. "Apart from the interests of its own members, Bureau Four serves the interests of the Empress. The Empress hates Zhao Fei. It did occur to me that they were sniffing around to see if we were about to murder the crown prince, just so they could send us a thank-you present. But that is conjecture; the question is what we can do now."

Yu Long and Mu Liqiang both shift uncomfortably.

"I think we ought to kill him," Lin Moniao says. "I'm not opposed to legal measures, but they may take too long to work, and... with all the political uncertainty, we don't need an enemy at our back. If we can get in and out quietly, and if we don't use our signature weapons or techniques, we won't necessarily be suspected--as Shi Jia says, the man has enough enemies. We can easily pin it on a disgruntled servant, especially if we have some of those working with us, and if we can get them out of town... as to that, Shi Jia--the route Shen Shanwei took. Is that yours, or Bureau Eight's?"

"Neither. It is a route used by smugglers and thieves. I never included it in my reports, for my own reasons, but it is entirely possible that the Bureau knows about it already. We could move Mo Henshui and his son through quickly, but they would need help once they are outside the city--disguises and transportation."

"We have enough people for that," said Master Wu.

Lin Moniao nods. "Alright, then. Mu-shidi, I don't suppose you've heard anything?"

Mu Liqiang shakes his head. "This shidi has been asleep most of the morning."

"Excuse this Shi Jia. Uncle Minhua would hesitate to engage a second double agent without making sure that this time, he will have a hold on him. If we mean to interest him in Mu Liqiang, he should also believe he has access to someone Mu Liqiang loves. Are your parents in Kaifeng, by any chance?"

Mu Liqiang shakes his head. "They are in Nanjing."

"Well, if not, not." Lin Moniao scoots a little closer to Mu Liqiang and takes his hand. "Time is short, and I didn't really want you going in there by yourself anyway, shidi. You might walk in, Shi Jia, pretending that his threats to me had brought you to heel, but he has reason to suspect you, and what would you do once you were inside? I don't like that either. Our best bet may be to hope that Mo Henshui can let a few of us in past security, and take it from there."

Shi Jia's gaze has turned inwards, and he tugs at his sleeves in a way he sometimes does when thinking. "Uncle Minhua would believe it, if this Shi Jia pretended to capitulate. I am staying in this house now. He would ask for another dagger and possibly... an assassination. He would want revenge for Shen Shanwei. We could pretend Shi Jia has followed through, to gain his trust... but there is no advantage in it for us. Although I am curious... and it could mean that Lin Moniao would no longer be a target."

"I will be a target when my dagger is at his throat," Lin Moniao grumbles. "Well, if you think you can visit safely, you might do some reconnaissance, and possibly pass a note to Mo Yun. You might bring a dagger as a gesture of goodwill, if you think he will want another one--I hope he thinks he still has Ran Ah's--or else we can think of something else he might like. If he asks you to assassinate one of us, at least that will be a reason for him to let you come back. If he doesn't--we are coming for you, A-Jia. We won't leave you there." He leans his head back and exhales in frustration. "I don't like it. I am already regretting giving one person to Shi Minhua, why am I sending him someone else?"

"No, that was all wrong, what was I thinking?" Shi Jia shakes his head, still in his thinking pose. "I would meet with him, surrender, and he would tell me to return here and wait for instructions. Then, he would take Lin Moniao and keep him at his house, and possibly send me a--letter from him or something of his that I would recognize, and with it, instructions on what he wants me to do. Once I've done it, he would kill Lin Moniao." He shudders. "It would get Lin Moniao in, and Mo Henshui could let him back out again, or--administer an antidote to the sleeping potion--he does that too, puts his hostages to sleep. My middle brother--but that isn't important--" The shudder threatens to turn into trembling, and he has to clench his fists and square his jaw to stop. "No, we are not doing that."

"We are not doing that," Master Wu echoes in a tone of finality. "Where would he keep his hostages?"

"In the back, in the women's quarters."

Without letting go of Mu Liqiang's hand, Lin Moniao puts his other hand on Shi Jia's arm. "If we release the hostages, that would cause some confusion, and Yi Zifan can probably supply an antidote to sleeping potions, if we need it--but the issue is still getting inside without being seen or stopped. Unless anyone has a better idea for that, the best we can do is rely on Mo Henshui, and our own stealth."

"Masks, and no signature weapons or parts of the uniform," Master Wu says firmly. "The first group will attempt the stealthy approach. Backup will be nearby and ready to go in loud if something goes wrong. Go with your gut once in--kill the guards first, or release the prisoners first--or get past everyone and kill Shi Minhua. We'll think of a cover story. Let's get as many details as we can about the house first, at least what Mo Henshui can tell us. I will be with the backup, as will anyone else Shi Minhua might recognize on sight."

Shi Jia looked like he had been about to say something, but snaps his mouth shut and lowers his hand.

"Yes, shifu," Lin Moniao says, grateful that he didn't have to be the one to say it. He knows how much Shi Jia hates being coddled, but he also desperately doesn't want to risk him in a fight he's not suited for.

The plan is decided on, then, and the sect leader concurs after a brief private consultation with the God. The meeting breaks up, with Master Wu staying behind to speak with the sect leader and everyone else dispatched to go out and look out for the agents. The killing of a high-ranking imperial official, no matter how corrupt or depraved that official is, is precisely the sort of thing they'd be looking out for. No huddling, then. Shi Jia steals a quick tight hug from Lin Moniao and goes back to hiding in his room. Yu Long leaves next, going out to the yard, looking thoughtful.

That leaves Lin Moniao and Mu Liqiang in the hallway. "Through the kitchen?" Mu Liqiang suggests.

"Yes, alright." Lin Moniao follows him, keeping an eye out for the Bureau Eight agents nonetheless; they're sure to work it out eventually, aren't they? "Shidi, you, ah--you didn't believe anything I said to you this morning, did you? Because it was all nonsense."

Mu Liqiang drops his eyes, then bumps lightly against Lin Moniao, in what is not quite a shove. "Other men have found me attractive before, you know," he says, sullen. "At least one other even after the qi deviation. It isn't just shixiong."

"I know that!" Lin Moniao shoves back, laughing. He's less careful; he doubts he could move Mu Liqiang even if he put all his strength into it. "And, you know, if you and Shen-shidi... well, perhaps I would be a little jealous, when he has never said yes to me, and he is so... but, truly, good luck."

Mu Liqiang sighs, but takes Lin Moniao's hand and laces their fingers together just as they enter the kitchen. It's empty now save for the slow-cooking pot on the fire, which is probably good, because Mu-shidi has no shame. "So shixiong wouldn't mind if this shidi sought out others just to confirm he is not so ugly?"

"Well, I think it's a silly reason; you just need a mirror to tell you that." Lin Moniao squeezes his hand. "But no, I wouldn't. And... I'm sorry I got carried away, shidi."

"I also said things," Mu Liqiang admits. "I still like shixiong very much. Let's not talk about it anymore." He smiles down at Lin Moniao and squeezes back.

It isn't the same. Mu Liqiang didn't actually insult Lin Moniao, or say anything he minded, really. But nevermind; if Mu Liqiang doesn't want to talk about it, it would be both unkind and unwise to keep arguing. "I like shidi very much too. And if shidi doesn't believe me when I say so--because I am such a notorious liar--then I could show him, also."

Mu Liqiang looks pleased, but shakes his head. "Shixiong has many things on his mind, he shouldn't have to take time out just to sate this one's needs. This one has been useless half the day already. Really, this one should be whipped for disrespect, and for wasting daylight."

"Hah, and here I am without my whip. What am I going to do with you, rascal?" Lin Moniao grabs a handful of Mu Liqiang's hair and pulls him down so their faces are level. "I will have to get you to your room before you cause a scandal in the kitchen."

Mu Liqiang melts and nods, smiles and rubs his head on Lin Moniao's hand. "Yes, shixiong."

No one stops them on the way. The single, small window in Mu Liqiang's room is uncovered, letting in daylight. It's usually a neatly kept room--the Qilin Villa has standards--but now the bed is still disturbed and the cabinet door ajar, a few drops of water still drying on the floor, signs of the occupant having been pulled out of bed and prepared at a fairly short notice. Mu Liqiang locks the door behind them, leaving the key in the door. "Shixiong is really too good," he says apologetically, but the look he gives Lin Moniao suggests he is not objecting to being dealt with.

"How can I help it, with a shidi like you?" Lin Moniao searches in his pockets until he finds his mirror, then tosses it to Mu Liqiang. "Hold this."

Mu Liqiang catches it. "Oh." His sultry look melts into an embarrassed one and he presses the mirror to his chest. "Shixiong. Please. It's alright. I know what I look like."

"Do you?" Lin Moniao says skeptically, stepping up behind Mu Liqiang until he's pressed up against his back, bracing himself with a hand on his hip. "It seems to me that you might need some instruction on the subject. Hold it where you can see your face, shidi."

Mu Liqiang holds it up, and tilts it so it's reflecting both their faces. He relaxes a little, watching them together like this, and even smiles. "It's fine," he manages, but he doesn't look for long. "It's just me."

"Oh, sweetheart." Lin Moniao presses his cheek against Mu Liqiang's broad back for a second, breathing him in, then lifts his head so he's reflected in the mirror again. If that helps Mu Liqiang, then it helps, and he really is trying. Besides, Lin Moniao can't deny that this way he can enjoy the view himself, the strong planes of Mu Liqiang's face, the lashes of his downcast eyes dark against his cheeks.

He works the fastenings on Mu Liqiang's belts open and lets them fall on the floor one by one, pushing his robes down past his shoulders, laying his own hands open-palmed on the expanse of Mu Liqiang's chest, the softness of hair and softness of fat overlaying hard muscle.

"Look again," he says gently, pressing a kiss to Mu Liqiang's bicep. "Tell me you're beautiful."

Mu Liqiang turns his head to rub his forehead against Lin Moniao's temple and puts one hand on top of Lin Moniao's hand where it's touching his chest, pressing it closer. He glances back at the mirror and smiles shyly.

"I am beautiful when shixiong looks at me like that." He pushes Lin Moniao's hand down towards his belly. "Please, shixiong, this one really is a terrible lustful beast. Please?"

Lin Moniao makes a pleased noise against Mu Liqiang's skin and obligingly slips his hand below his waistband, wrapping it around Mu Liqiang's silken heat, feeling himself growing hard in turn, still pressed up against Mu Liqiang's back. "You're doing so well," he murmurs.

"Shixiong wants to watch us in the mirror? Shixiong wants me to watch us..." Where Lin Moniao's hand is placed, Mu Liqiang's response to the idea is evident. He tilts the mirror so Lin Moniao can see the hand disappearing under the waistband and presses back against him. "Like this?"

"Lovely. Oh, you're good," Lin Moniao breathes, rocking against him, his knees starting to feel shaky, which is the problem with doing it standing up like this. Still, it's so good, Mu Liqiang's piece full and twitching in his hand, he doesn't want to stop, but presently he does, pulling away and breathing hard. "Just... just a moment. Hold still. Wait."

Mu Liqiang has been moving his hips in small movements and straining his neck to kiss Lin Moniao's temple, his free hand reaching back to pull him closer; now he groans, deprived of contact, but swallows the end of the sound and nods obediently.

His eyes follow Lin Moniao, the mirror now pressed to his chest again. He is lightly flushed and his trousers conspicuously tented, his voice warm. "Perhaps the mirror could help this one improve his technique with his mouth, if shixiong holds it up and instructs..."

Lin Moniao laughs shakily. "Maybe! You'd like that, wouldn't you, and I had been thinking--but first." He crosses over to the cabinet and starts rummaging. "Now where did you put it... there." He holds up the gold necklace he gave Mu Liqiang back in Lu'an. "You know I love to see this on you," he says, coming back and reaching up to fasten it around Mu Liqiang's neck, then taking his hand, tilting the mirror towards them again. "There, now shidi looks perfect. A pretty young man should have pretty things, isn't that right?"

It's an expensive piece, and it does look just a little indecent, such wealth against bare skin. Mu Liqiang touches it and admires it in the mirror, but then twists around and kisses Lin Moniao on the lips. Dropping out of his flirty voice, he chokes out, "Thank you. Really. Thank you."

"Sweetheart." Lin Moniao wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. "It's my pleasure."

Then after a moment he lets go and sits down heavily on the bed.

"Now you can hand me the mirror," he says, giving the necklace a tug. "And kneel."

Mu Liqiang settles between Lin Moniao's legs with a happy sound, and it's the work of a few moments to move aside his clothing enough to sink into the shocking heat of Mu Liqiang's mouth--Lin Moniao could swear he's run hotter, everywhere, ever since the qi deviation. Lin Moniao maintains just enough self-possession to hold the mirror steady, but the quality of instruction he provides is decidedly fragmentary--mostly confined to "yes, like that," and "more," and occasionally "slow down, I can't."

Trembling at the edge, he chokes out the order to stop, pulling Mu Liqiang into bed with him, as hungry for Mu Liqiang's release as for his own, unwilling to leave him behind, not now. The rest of their clothes are quickly discarded, and recourse is had to Mu Liqiang's bottle of oil. It's a dream, the way their bodies fit together, when by all sense they shouldn't, the hot slide of their cocks against each other, far too much for Lin Moniao to get a hand around, though Mu Liqiang can just manage. It isn't long before Lin Moniao is shuddering, clinging to Mu Liqiang, burrowed against the curve of his belly, practically sobbing, "Come for me, shidi, please."

And then he's gone, almost too far gone to notice Mu Liqiang following his instruction.

Lin Moniao starts to doze off, just like that, still tangled together and sticky. It's only the afternoon, but it was a long night last night, and it will be a long night tonight, and Master Wu said he should rest.

Tonight. The sect leader has advised him to push himself when he breaks through--assuming he does--to achieve a new technique, even though it will mean a qi deviation. Master Wu wasn't so sure. And he's right--Lin Moniao knows that Master Wu and the sect leader aren't going to kill him if he doesn't. But Master Wu is also wrong, because the need to be useful is no less urgent for that.

The last time Lin Moniao was in Mu Liqiang's bed--was it only two days ago?--Mu Liqiang had said: Shixiong must give me something that it pains him to part with exactly as much as it pained this one to part with the deed.

And Lin Moniao had thought, it wasn't what it had cost him to part with it that counted, but what it had cost him to gain it.

But, since he doesn't like arguing with Mu Liqiang, all he'd said was: I will think of something, I'm sure.

“Shidi,” he says softly now, “I've thought of something.”

"Mm?" Mu Liqiang has been dozing with him, satisfied and happy like a big cat. "This shidi will clean up, just not yet. Don't go yet." He squeezes Lin Moniao lightly and drops a kiss on his forehead. Apparently he is over his scruples about wasting the day.

"Well, maybe just a little," Lin Moniao says indulgently, although he isn't tired anymore. The God told him to be prepared, and he intends to do everything he can to prepare. And if that means incurring a qi deviation--Mu Liqiang did it for him. Can he do any less for Mu Liqiang, and for the sect, which Mu Liqiang is part of? But while he knows Mu Liqiang would be happy to help, he can't ask him to. Not with this. "I've just remembered--I need to borrow your medicine balls. I won't take them out of the house, and you'll have them back before tonight."

Mu Liqiang sighs, accepting that this laziness must come to an end. He lifts his head and nods, smiles. "Shixiong can certainly have them. For dual cultivation? Shixiong works hard. I hope this one did not spoil any plans."

"No, I've only just thought of it. It's alright--last time Heng Wanxue said it would work better if we tried on the second round rather than the first, and she was right. You're fine." Lin Moniao brushes the hair from Mu Liqiang's face and kisses him on the forehead. "You're perfect."

"Shixiong!" Mu Liqiang nuzzles Lin Moniao's neck to hide his face in a fit of shyness.

By and by he peels himself off to tidy up and pour out water for washing. It's cold, and the weather's turned cooler too, but washing in the cold is the downside of living in a house full of other people and only one kitchen. "Who will you go to?" he asks while brushing Lin Moniao's hair smooth to be retied. "This shidi is willing, but shixiong may have more suitable alternatives."

Lin Moniao sighs contentedly while Mu Liqiang brushes his hair. He really could go again with Mu Liqiang--Mu Liqiang wouldn't ask him to explain anything, but--

"I was thinking I'd ask Shi Jia," he admits.

"He is skilled in medicine?"

"He has some training," Lin Moniao says. He didn't do very well after Immortal Sword Manor, but that's not really the point either. Mu Liqiang nods and accepts it without any further question.

Once Lin Moniao is presentable once more, he stands up to go, but, seeing his mirror where he dropped it on the floor, picks it up and hands it to Mu Liqiang, folding his fingers over it. "Keep it. In case you ever need to remember what you look like."

Mu Liqiang takes the mirror, grins, and catches Lin Moniao for one more kiss.

After leaving Mu Liqiang, Lin Moniao goes back to his own room to wash up again and change his clothes--it's probably not necessary, but now is hardly the time to offend Shi Jia's sensibilities.

Then he ducks through the kitchen once more. If the Bureau Eight agents catch him this time, it's only Lin Moniao going to visit his lover. But all he finds is a harassed Qi Lian trying to respectfully shoo out disciples who have come to steal an early supper. He makes it to Shi Jia's room without incident and knocks on the door. "A-Jia? I was hoping you could help me with something."

Shi Jia opens the door. His eyes look tired and his hair is untidy. "Come in. I'm just trying to work something out."

Inside, the curtains are drawn back to let in light, and papers and drawings are strewn across the tea-table in the middle of the large room; the desk, presumably, was not quite large enough. Shi Jia draws Lin Moniao closer to them. One of the papers is a simple decoding of a cipher carelessly thrown aside, on another are a few layouts for a house and different routes through it, and part is an enlarged map of the area surrounding Shi Minhua's house, copied from a map of Kaifeng. "I was going to suggest to Master Wu that the backup wait in a nearby wineshop to avoid rousing suspicion, but there aren't any, so we will need a reason to park carriages nearby and for a number of people to loiter. I have some ideas, especially since the festival is so close, but I'll have to run them by your shifu. But, what can this Shi Jia help A-Niao with?"

Lin Moniao looks over Shi Jia's maps and scribblings with interest. It's tempting to fall comfortably into planning with him, but that isn't what he came for, and he doesn't have much time left. Instead, he sits on the bed, leans back on his hands--and says nothing. He can't seem to think of how to start.

"A-Niao?" Shi Jia rubs his eyes and follows Lin Moniao to the bed. He kneels next to the bed, puts a hand on Lin Moniao's knee and studies his expression with concern. Then he looks him up and down, and smiles faintly. "Mu Liqiang?"

Oh, unfair, after all the trouble Lin Moniao went to!

"If A-Jia doesn't want to know, he shouldn't ask," Lin Moniao says with a short laugh. "Mu Liqiang is fine. That's not it."

"A-Jia wants to know, if it is important." He rubs Lin Moniao's knee comfortingly. "Worried?"

Lin Moniao drops his eyes, looking anywhere but at Shi Jia, and nods.

"I can't tell you everything. It's sect business. But Master Wu and the sect leader are counting on me. Everyone is. If they see I'm afraid, they'll lose heart, so I can't be, in front of them. But, A-Jia--" Lin Moniao puts his hand over Shi Jia's, his shoulders pulling inward. "I am afraid."

Shi Jia scoots up between Lin Moniao's legs in order to wrap him in a tight hug. "Me too." He squeezes even tighter, then loosens the grip with a puff of air and presses his forehead on Lin Moniao's. "Is it Uncle Minhua? Or something else?"

"Would you still love me if I lost all my hair? If I had a mouth full of crocodile's teeth? If I couldn't say sweet things to you anymore, not out loud?"

Shi Jia laughs, then sobers up. "Qi deviation? Oh, A-Niao. I'm afraid I would. But what's--that's--" He sucks in his lower lip. "Sect business?"

"I'm going to try for a breakthrough tonight. The sect leader will help me through it. If everything goes well--I will have a qi deviation. And I know--" Lin Moniao cups Shi Jia's face and closes his eyes, Shi Jia's forehead cool against his own. "I know A-Jia's faithful heart. You would love me, crocodile teeth and all. But if I were--twisted inside--so that my only pleasure was cruelty, like the Heartless Dagger, or like--like your uncle--you would not."

"A-Niao," Shi Jia breathes. "I might. I'm not that smart." He puts his hands over Lin Moniao's. "Do you really have to push yourself? There's no way around it?"

Lin Moniao's breath catches. "Don't say that, A-Jia. Don't--I hate the thought of my A-Jia hopelessly devoted to someone who only wants to hurt him. But I have to do this. I can't explain it. I have to."

"Don't explain then, if you can't. But I don't believe that's the way A-Niao's spirit would twist. Even if it did, these afflictions can be overcome. It won't be the end." He lays a kiss in the corner of Lin Moniao's mouth. "I promise."

"Oh, A-Jia." Lin Moniao hugs him tight, with something between a laugh and a sob. "Don't tell anyone, but I have my faults. I know it. But they are mine. I don't want to--be someone else."

Shi Jia makes soothing noises and whispers affectionate nonsense, occasionally laying tickling kisses on Lin Moniao's face and neck. What could he say? Nobody knows what changes a qi deviation will bring. Nobody stays the same forever, either. Fear is a reasonable response, and Lin Moniao is clearly determined despite that. "My A-Niao is very clever and good, and he'll gain something wonderful that will be worth all the trouble, and be even more widely admired than before."

For a while, Lin Moniao lets himself be soothed, basking in the kisses and the praise. Then he takes a deep breath to compose himself, and says, "Anyway. That's what I want your help with. I've been studying dual cultivation--there's a special technique that I'm hoping to gain--and I've already become rather proficient in the ordinary kind. I'm hoping that, if I go into this with my energies perfectly balanced, I'll be able to avoid the worst of the effects. Will you help me?"

"Of course I will. Ah--I know the theory." Shi Jia looks a little embarrassed. "Run it by me again?"

"You learn best by doing." Lin Moniao grins and leans in, kissing Shi Jia lingeringly. "But, oh, it's tiresome--we really ought to meditate first." He takes out Mu Liqiang's treasure, explaining the use of it, and going over the theory of dual cultivation as far as he understands it at the same time. "I can let you have a look at the manual Yuwen Duyi wrote me, if you like," he confides. "Technically that's a sect secret too, but you are doing so much for us, you have earned something."

When has Shi Jia ever refused a book? He suggests Lin Moniao meditate first so he can read in the meanwhile; and, he adds, knowing himself, a little meditation to focus the mind is probably a good idea even without the healing balls of the Red Pine Immortal. He almost asks where Mu Liqiang got such a treasure, but... focus.

And so Shi Jia reads while Lin Moniao meditates, and then Shi Jia meditates while Lin Moniao waits. Once again, Lin Moniao is tempted to take a look at Shi Jia's papers, but he doesn't want to lose the focus he gained from meditating. Instead, he watches Shi Jia. It's unusual to see him so composed, so settled in his body, his habitual telltale awkwardness nowhere in evidence. There's no sound but steady breathing and the soft, rhythmic clacking of the balls as the shadows from the window lengthen and then darken altogether. Lin Moniao lights a lamp. Shi Jia ought to be almost done by now, so Lin Moniao quietly strips off his clothing and takes down his hair, combing it out with his fingers until it falls over his shoulders and spills down his back. If it does happen to be his last night with it, why shouldn't he show off a little, after all?

He crouches down by Shi Jia as he blinks his eyes, focusing on the world around him again. "Hello, you seem to be a little overdressed," says Lin Moniao, running his fingers teasingly around the edge of Shi Jia's collar. "May I help you with that?"

Shi Jia's eyes crinkle as he smiles. He puts the balls neatly back in their box and sets the box aside. "Please. This Shi Jia's fingers are stiff from practicing." Despite the alleged stiffness, he manages to undo his own belt in two quick tugs.

"My poor A-Jia." Lin Moniao laughs softly and slides his hands under Shi Jia's robes. He moves closer, nipping at the soft skin of Shi Jia's throat while he pushes the robes down, over Shi Jia's shoulders and down his arms, slowly, taking the time to savor the feel of him. Finally, Lin Moniao's hands close on Shi Jia's wrists, and he pulls both of them to their feet in one motion, leaving the robes to pool on the floor.

Shi Jia breaks into a smile and allows himself to be pulled along. "The desire to become one, wasn't it?"

"Shi Jia is a quick study." Lin Moniao shakes his head ruefully. "You would never have gotten into some of the trouble I did... oh well."

It might have been foolish and dangerous, but he can't really regret that first experiment with Mu Liqiang--it's only when he remembers what a scare he gave Mu-shidi that he feels a little stab of shame. But if he hadn't done that then, would he be able to do this now? Just resting his fingertips on Shi Jia's wrists is like dabbling his fingers in the lake at the Villa; he's only touching the surface, but it feels like the whole ebb and flow of Shi Jia is his to plunge into. He holds on a little longer, then drops his hands to unfasten Shi Jia's trousers.

Shi Jia takes Lin Moniao's face between his hands and kisses him, walking him backwards towards the bed. Once there, he kicks out of his trousers and pushes Lin Moniao down on the bed, on his back. His gaze is openly admiring as it travels down his body before he climbs in after him, and over him.

His qi is settled, calm, strong, coming right off meditation, and when he wraps his hands on Lin Moniao's wrists, their spirits touch again, like two puddles of water briefly coming together at the edge. His cheeks are coloring with rising desire. "I like you so much," he says softly. It really shouldn't need to be said, but maybe it does.

"So much," Lin Moniao echoes, tilting his hips up towards Shi Jia. He knows he could throw him off easily, but it doesn't feel like that. He feels held, settled. "I like you, I want you, oh."

They kiss for a while, qi touching as teasingly as their lips. It begins to catch fire as they go. Eventually, Shi Jia must stop and press his forehead on Lin Moniao's shoulder for a moment to catch his breath and regain focus, but the connection holds. It no longer needs the contact, Shi Jia's thumbs on Lin Moniao's pulse.

Once recovered, he sits up and smiles down at Lin Moniao, and runs a hand down his thigh and under the knee, nudging it up. "Like this?"

"Oh." Trembling at the touch, Lin Moniao lifts his knees, inviting Shi Jia in. Even with all his practice, he's so close to losing control, the energy between them leaping like a wild thing. He breathes deeply and lets his need flow between them, just another strand in their connection. "Oh, please."

"It might be useful to get closer to your dantian--mm. Yes..."

Shi Jia descends for kisses again, but this time his hands are busy lower down, making sure A-Niao is as happy as he is. His own piece barely needs touching to be taut and ready for lovemaking.

"Oh, I should have thought of this--" he murmurs, but manages to reach out and tug his trousers closer without breaking their connection, for the oil in one of his many pockets, which he wouldn't even think of carrying around if it wasn't for Lin Moniao. "Good, still good, darling?" he breathes.

"Good," Lin Moniao gasps. His hand is on the join of Shi Jia's shoulder and neck, thumb brushing against his pulse--he doesn't need to, but it feels good. "My A-Jia. Yes. Go on."

Things already being like this, it's not a lot of work to prepare them both. Shi Jia pushes in, one hand on Lin Moniao's chest to feel his heartbeat, holding down just a little to settle him. But then he has to hide his face in his neck again, making a muffled sound of need and pleasure against his skin. One of his hands wanders up into Lin Moniao's hair, pets his skull, the other bracing his leg up against his own side.

Shi Jia lifts up and takes Lin Moniao's wrists again, pinning them up against the bed by his head, kisses him sweetly, and begins to fuck him gently but thoroughly. The energy looping between them flows strong, shining, steady, even as Shi Jia whimpers to hold on.

Lin Moniao makes hungry noises against Shi Jia's mouth, rocking up to take him deeper, every stroke sparking a fresh flare of pleasure. He doesn't need any more than this, the brush of Shi Jia's skin against his straining piece; it's almost too much. "You can--let go," he gasps out between kisses. "Fill me up--I'm ready--"

It's enough encouragement. Shi Jia's concentration has been holding steady, but it must have been a strain, considering how quickly Lin Moniao can usually unravel him. He braces his knees and bucks his hips harder and faster for a few strokes, and comes with hitched breath and an almost pained moan. "A-Niao, ah!"

Lin Moniao clenches around Shi Jia, squeezes his waist with his knees, arches up towards him frantically, spilling over his own belly and chest. Then he falls back onto the bed, breathing hard, blissfully at one with the universe.

"Is it... always like this with dual cultivation?" Shi Jia asks after a while, still lying half on top of Lin Moniao even as the bubble of heat around them is dissipating and the cool air is starting to get uncomfortable on sweaty skin. He's lazy and relaxed, though his qi is still sparkling.

"No, I'm just good," Lin Moniao laughs, but then he pushes up on one elbow, kisses Shi Jia's temple, and corrects himself. "You were so good, A-Jia. A natural talent, truly."

Shi Jia accepts the kiss happily, then rests his chin on Lin Moniao's chest and smiles. "Does Master Lin think this student should pursue it? Since he is so inept in martial arts."

"You are brave and clever and good," Lin Moniao tells him. Unfortunately Shi Jia is certainly clever enough to notice that Lin Moniao hasn't contradicted him about being inept, because he can't. "And I would be happy to provide you with as much instruction as you like."

Then he yawns widely, throwing this claim somewhat into doubt.

Shi Jia smooths Lin Moniao's hair from his face. "A-Niao needs rest." He sits up reluctantly.

"Yes. Can I stay? Until the sect leader is ready for me?" Lin Moniao turns onto his side, burrowing into the bed, but before Shi Jia can get up, he closes his hand around his wrist. "And--if I am not myself tomorrow. Please remember. You are very dear to me."

"I know." Shi Jia presses the hand on his wrist and smiles.

--

At nightfall, all work must be completed, and so the last half-hour in the fading light sees some disciples scrambling to clean and put away practice weapons, blot their ink, and wash the last pots. The agents have been mixing with the disciples, eating and drinking with them, and even helping some of the younger ones with their studies. If one didn't know better, one might think they really were shijies from Nanjing--if not for the fact that, once the night falls, Song Dongmei takes her place on the porch, watching out for stragglers.

There are no lights lit in the hallway when it's time for Lin Moniao to go into his seclusion. Even as Master Wu pushes open the door to the sect leader's rooms, it is dim within; there is only the smallest flicker of lamplight before the door closes again.

Inside, the curtains are pulled and the air is heavy with incense. Beauty Niu rises from a lotus position at the end of the room, the God spreading his wings to balance on his perch on her shoulder, and nods in greeting, her eyes turning into slits as she smiles.

Wu Zhenghao puts a hand on Lin Moniao's shoulder and squeezes. He has made his opinion clear; he does not want Lin Moniao to push himself. However, it is his choice.

"There you are. Ready?"

"Yes, shifu." Lin Moniao leans into the touch, just a bit. His dual cultivation has left him feeling centered and settled. The fear is still there, but it's as he told Shi Jia: he can't be afraid now, so he tucks it away next to his heart. "Sect leader," he adds, bowing.

She comes closer, and Master Wu steps back. "The auspices are good," she tells both of them, but gives a pointed look to Master Wu, who ducks his head.

"I will leave you to it, then."

As he leaves, Niu Liling wraps an arm around Lin Moniao's shoulders. This close, when she speaks, even the perfumes can't quite hide the sour smell underneath. "You have come far in a short time, and now you're pushing yourself again. These are times that call for this. Don't worry too much tonight. I have read the date and the hour, found out the placement of the stars, and we are in luck. What we wish to accomplish will be accomplished."

She indicates a spot on a mat on the floor; they will be sitting opposite one another, under the tall windows with their ornate framework.

Back at the Villa, the God was a distant presence: always there, but not to be approached. Lin Moniao had never been close enough to hear Him speak until his initiation, and after that, only during the last meeting with the masters he'd sat in on before leaving. Beauty Niu had been almost as remote, a figure of awe. It's only lately that Lin Moniao has begun to suspect that her isolation is due to her temperament, rather than because she is something half-divine herself--that, and there's the side-effect of her internal technique. Everyone at the Villa knows why she wears a veil, though it's not to be shared with outsiders, but this is the first time Lin Moniao has been close enough to smell the foulness of her breath. It's unpleasant, certainly, but he doesn't find himself wanting to shy away.

He can't say that he's exactly comfortable in her presence, or the God's. But he's starting to get used to it. And her strength, the certainty in her voice when she tells him that they'll succeed--it's a comfort.

He sinks down onto the mat she pointed out. She will be guiding him through this, and their spirits will be open to each other. Not quite as in dual cultivation--he doesn't believe that Master Wu would actually break his legs, but nevertheless the message was clearly received--but not entirely different either. And so, even as he reaches out his hands to her, he extends his inner senses, letting her aura make itself known. She's a warrior, just as his master and Huang Tianlin are, and death sits with her as with an old friend, but for the second time this evening he's put in mind of the lake, this time under heavy skies, what Hua Haoyu would describe as perfect weather for fishing. Sadness, though not necessarily regret, and something sharp and vicious lurking in the shallows.

"Sect leader," he says hesitantly, "I mean to take your advice and push myself, but--have you ever--?"

"Suffered a qi deviation?" She is on the edge of sinking back into meditation, and her speech is slow and calm. Her palms are dry and cool against his. "No. I have helped people who have to calm their spirits afterwards. I can't follow you there, but I will guide you back."

"You won't--let me be lost?"

"Guaranteed." She sounds utterly confident, though it is not unknown for someone to die or become catatonic from a qi deviation. "I am here. The God is here. We will not let you drown." She crinkles her eyes at him, then lowers her lids as she turns her attention inwards. "Come along."

She sends a slow, gentle pulse of qi through him, establishing a loop.

He nods, breathes deeply, and closes his own eyes, focusing on the feel of her hands where they touch, the connection between them, the shifting balance of his energies.

The room and the house and the city fall away, even one's self falls away in the first stage of their meditation, where the edges of one's being melt away. This would normally take much longer, but it feels like a blink of an eye before Niu Liling recalls Lin Moniao's consciousness back to task. They are here to mold and strengthen his individual qi, and so, while the physical self is out of his consciousness, his spiritual body is present with all its parts, as is hers. Like this, he can see and sense the strong core swirling inside her abdomen, hot enough to burn her from the inside.

Niu Liling has never suffered a qi deviation, but she has come close. Should she attempt a breakthrough, it will be risky. Now he knows it; and she knew that he would, when she agreed to do this. Today, however, her core is steady and calm. Strands of golden energy link her core to his.

They move on.

There are pinpricks of light in the field around them, other lives, but those too blur at the edges, all part of ebb and flow. Varieties and flavors of energy. The earth, the sky, the air, the metal bones of the earth, deep below, the mist gathering in the night air.

Sensation without thought.

Then, Niu Liling must have done something, because all at once they are directed back together into the moment, and the flow of qi around them intensifies, screwing into a point, tingling up Lin Moniao's spine, firing up his meridians. There is eternity at the back of his head.

There is a sensation of love and care, reassurance pulsing through the loop he shares with the sect leader... And then he is alone, his meridians on fire. Her hands are still on his, but it is as if she is behind a screen, no longer part of him, a lifeline to hold on to while his body and spirit break.

Lin Moniao screams. It hurts, it hurts, he's flying apart--

The sect leader promised she'd guide him back. She promised. But she isn't here, and the connection between them feels as fragile as a dream or a breath, like it will crumble if he touches it. He's alone. He's breaking. This is the end of him, and something else will come back to Shi Jia and to Mu Liqiang--

No. They're his. The sect and the God, his friends and his mother--his to protect, and he will destroy anyone who dares to lay a hand on them. War is coming, and he has to be prepared. He will shatter the pillars of Heaven if he has to. He will do anything he has to.

His core burns with fury, and he coalesces around it, body and spirit coming together again. He takes a ragged breath. It hurts. But he's breathing.

Lin Moniao looks down at his feet, bare on a wooden floor, except these aren't his feet. The trailing white silky dress isn't his either. There's blood all over it, the hems. He raises up his hands, narrow and delicate. One is holding a curved dagger; not quite the Curved Beauty Dagger, but something close to it, with the imperial family crest attached to the root of the blade.

The scene fades, but in the drowned-sky lake of Niu Liling's soul, blended with his until there is no difference between them, the rain is stained with blood, and the fish are turned to daggers.

Back in the room at the house in Kaifeng, Niu Liling's fingers twitch under Lin Moniao's. She is there again, and though the connection between them is re-established, it is only to make sure of him. They no longer need to build up or guide qi together. Lin Moniao has broken through.

The lamp has burned out, and the incense smoke nearly cleared, leaving behind a scent of sweat and sourness. The sun is only just coming up, but the room is still in shadow.

"Stay," she says with a voice wet from disuse, and coughs. Then she moves, rubbing her fingers, her temples, her feet, unwinding from the lotus pose, bringing her body back to life. Then she rubs Lin Moniao's hands, and pats his knees, reminding him of the edges of his body. "You did very well. Come out slowly, and we'll have a look at you."

He nods slowly. Everything seems like it's happening very far away. These are his arms and legs. He is himself, Lin Moniao, his favorite person to be.

When the sect leader touches him, he can sense her core, bright and warm and strong, more real to his senses than the room and its furniture.

When he breathes, it hurts, as if he's been screaming for hours.

Whatever she discovers, examining him, she doesn't say, but seems satisfied. "Nothing too bad."

They're both tired. The God is asleep on his perch in the cage, His eyes closed and His feathered chest moving steadily.

She stands up stiffly and offers him a hand up. "Injury to the throat through spiritual practice is not unusual when you are compelled to keep secrets. It could have been much worse. Can you speak?"

He takes her hand and brings his other hand to his throat in sudden alarm. If he's become like Master Fa--Shi Jia will still love him if he can't say sweet things, but he likes to say them, and besides, how can he spin a convincing line, how can he tell anyone what to do? He can do it without the Shadow Moon Crown, but not without his voice.

"I--" Speaking hurts worse than breathing, and it comes out sounding thin and raspy, not like him at all. But he can speak. He could weep with relief. "Yes, sect leader."

"Alright, you'd better rest your voice." She does look a little worried, but shakes her head. "Let's go let Wu Zhenghao know, and get you something to drink."

The God descends from the rafters, landing on Lin Moniao's shoulder, startling the sect leader. But as His claws dig lightly into Lin Moniao, she reaches over and pets the feathers on His head. He takes off again, and back into the rafters, but it's a rare show of support.

Lin Moniao touches his shoulder wonderingly, looking up into the rafters after the God with horribly mixed feelings. He's touched, awed, proud--and also, after what he has heard from the God and seen while his spirit mingled with the sect leader's, worried. She's told him to rest his voice, but he says anyway, "Sect leader, I'm about to be terribly impertinent. It's not my place to question the sect leader's plans, or what her honor requires, but if it were my choice between a dead enemy and a living sect leader, I--" The end of this speech trails off, each word weaker than the last, until he can't make any more come out at all. He swallows painfully, once, twice, and tries again, choosing his words carefully, as few of them as he can to convey his meaning. "You are. More. Than him."

She looks at him steadily, then drops her gaze and fixes his collar. "I thought I told you to rest your voice, Lin Moniao." But her hands stop at his collar, and she sighs. "Yang Xiuxing only had a short while to study with me, but he has proven to be an excellent student, and has everything he needs to learn my technique once he breaks through. He may have it already." She pats his chest. "There will be a living sect leader, one way or another."

Lin Moniao's eyes go wide in surprise. The sect leader has always refused to pass her technique on, and now--Yang Xiuxing! The little hooligan! And what a shame to hide that face behind a veil for the rest of his days!

A burst of pride glows in Lin Moniao's chest, but even so--leading the sect seems like a lot to ask of a young man not even fully grown. And after all, it isn't because of her technique that Beauty Niu is the sect leader, but because she found the God's current incarnation. And He told Lin Moniao--

Well. Even if it means what he has thought it might, there's a New Year every year. May it not be for many years yet.

But rather than disobeying the sect leader again in the matter of his voice, he says none of this; only dips his head in acknowledgement and follows her.

Normally Wu Zhenghao would go to the sect leader; today, the sect leader is going to Wu Zhenghao. They find him already dressed, and he pulls Lin Moniao up by his shoulders, rudely ignoring Niu Liling, just to look him up and down. He takes Lin Moniao's wrists and sends an inquiring pulse through. Only then does he turn to her and say good morning and thank you, before going back to inspecting his disciple.

"Wu Zhenghao, he is fine. The qi deviation could have gone much worse. Look, he is walking upright and isn't about to murder anyone."

"That would have been inconvenient," Master Wu agrees.

"Shifu," Lin Moniao says in his weak, cracked voice. He cannot say everything he wants to say, and shouldn't do everything he wants to do, not until the sect leader leaves, anyway. "It's alright."

"Ah." The master meets his eyes, sighs in relief, and smiles. "You foolhardy... Congratulations."

The sect leader yawns and leaves them to it, citing a need for rest before their appointment that day with the Leng-Piao clan.



Chapter Nine: Shi Minhua

Notes: This chapter contains violence, injury, death, and allusions to torture.

There are also allusions to an unpublished adventure, so don't worry, you didn't miss a Xingcheng anywhere earlier in the story. That happened elsewhere, in the aether.



If they were at the Villa, or even if the house were free of Bureau Eight agents, there would be a celebration for a member of the sect reaching his third breakthrough. Even in the worst of conditions, Lin Moniao could expect many claps on the back and an extra portion of wine at dinner. Now, only three people know, so only three people can offer him their congratulations.

Shi Jia's are heartfelt, and he smiles though his eyes are red not only from worry but from lack of sleep. He has been out most of the night, gathering information at the late-night restaurants and gambling halls.

"Uncle Minhua has been hiring retired army captains to teach martial arts to youths that live in the back of his house--two of them, so there may be another Mo Yun there. There will be guards in the gatehouse, maybe elsewhere, they couldn't say, but they are hired from lower ranks and unlikely to be using advanced techniques."

The information they have is pooled and gathered together quickly, because they only have so much time for planning now. They must act quickly, before Mo Henshui is compromised or Sha Zhengtian acts.

As Master Wu decreed, everyone who is going swaps out their signature weapons and removes the red, and any emblems, from the clothing. The Blood Sparrows should be safe to use, as it isn't common knowledge that they were ever in the possession of the Villa. As for techniques--they should only be used in extremity, or if they can be disguised as something else.

--

It's late afternoon four days before the Mid-Autumn festival when Zhu Chen and Dong Yuan finally arrive in Kaifeng, the interminable wait at the gates only the latest in a series of inconveniences over many wearying days of travel. The trip down to Ao Town had been full of incident; the trip back mostly full of inclement weather and washed-out roads and bridges, until it seemed that they would miss the festival in the capital altogether. But here they are at last, their hired carriage trundling up to Zhu Chen's house. Dong Yuan helps her down from the carriage, then turns back to the driver to direct the unloading of her luggage.

The luggage... is a problem. It's bad enough that it doesn't contain the Heart-Shaping Crown, which Zhu Chen was dispatched to acquire. However, that much could be forgiven--Wu Zhenghao is not so unreasonable as to blame her for failing to persuade Sun Lan to relinquish something that Sun Lan no longer possesses. What is worse, is that the luggage is nevertheless seventy-five taels of silver lighter, which taels had been earmarked for paying for the crown, but which instead, through a series of unforeseeable events, have gone towards paying down Zhu Chen's own debt on her house. Tales of heroism and fights with pirates and Lu Bank enforcers notwithstanding, it will be a little tricky to explain.

Zhu Chen approaches her front gate, trailed by Dong Yuan and the driver with her trunk, rings the bell, and waits. And waits. Eventually it becomes clear that Liang Huian is not coming to answer it. What on earth can be the matter? Zhu Chen reaches for her key, and then she sees--the lock has been tampered with.

She takes a step backwards. Her house... Liang Huian... "I think we ought to pay a visit to your master's first," she tells Dong Yuan. "And come back with more sect brothers. Just in case."

And so, the long-suffering driver loads the trunk onto the carriage once more, and they proceed to Wu Zhenghao's in uneasy silence.

The house, when they arrive, is busy with activity. Beauty Niu and Master Wu have recently returned from a diplomatic meeting, nearly missing the dinner being laid out in the inner courtyard, and meet Zhu Chen right through the gate. Master Wu greets her with a pleased grin and a light touch of her elbows, Beauty Niu with a bow of her head.

Dong Yuan greets the master and sect leader properly, but spots Yu Yanlong at one of the tables--he is hard to miss--and exclaims, abandoning Zhu Chen to rush over. He has a new limp, but no respect for the injury, and so is as fast as a monkey still.

"Wu Zhenghao, I apologize for bringing my luggage to your doorstep, but the truth is, I was somewhat alarmed when I arrived at my house, because it seemed--" Even as Zhu Chen speaks, she's barely paying attention to her words. There is Yu Yanlong, and a dozen other sect brothers she knows less well. But where is Lin Moniao? Is he still off on a mission somewhere? Or--if something has happened to him, surely she would have been told first thing--

But no, there he is, slipping into the courtyard late for dinner. Whole and healthy, as far as she can tell, but he looks like he hasn't slept properly for days, and surely there's a darkness in his spirit that wasn't there before he left for Nanjing--or wherever it was he was really going. Just as she spots him, he sees her, and he crosses the room in a few strides, weaving between tables, to catch her in a hug.

"It's good to see you, Mother," he says. His voice is thin and raspy, and if she hadn't heard it coming out of his mouth, she wouldn't have known it.

She holds him, looking searchingly up at his face. "Moniao, what's happened?"

"Ah." He reaches up nervously to tuck a stray strand of hair back into place; that gesture, at least, is entirely familiar. "I'm afraid that with so many sect brothers in residence it's rather noisy in here, we should--" He trails off as his voice gives out, but she gathers, anyway, that not everything he has to tell is for public consumption; in particular, his eyes seem to flick briefly over to a young woman seated at the end of one of the long tables before looking quickly back.

Wu Zhenghao says, "Moniao, why don't you take your mother to the back, where it's less noisy, and have some tea brought to her. Madame Zhu, you must be exhausted."

Another young woman in sect colors is approaching them, a notebook out in her hand. Master Wu shoots Madame Zhu a constrained smile, not at all like his usual affability towards her, and addresses the woman. "Introductions later, if you don't mind. It is rather busy here."

She nods, but not before giving Zhu Chen an inquisitive look.

"A thousand apologies," Zhu Chen murmurs to the young woman, bringing a hand to her head with a pained wince. Lin Moniao takes her arm solicitously and leads her away.

There's an ease in it which almost does feel like a headache giving way in the face of medicine. Xingcheng is a dear young man--Zhu Chen wishes him luck wherever he is--and he dealt admirably with 'one of her headaches' in Ao Town. But nobody can pick up the threads of her deception as smoothly as Lin Moniao can; nobody else has been doing it his entire life.

He stops in the kitchen for a tray--two teapots, as well as a number of cups--so it is to be a truly private conversation, without even a younger disciple to carry and pour. She has never been to this part of the house, as often as she's visited. He leads her to a well-appointed room and sets the tray down on a table, pouring for her from one pot and for himself from the other.

"Medicinal," he says with a grimace, after drinking. Indeed, his words do seem to be coming more easily, though still in a strange voice. "Yi Zifan brought it with her other poisons. Likely I will always sound like this--a qi deviation cannot be fixed like a simple injury--but I'm supposed to drink this and not strain my voice for the next few days in order not to make it worse."

Qi deviation? Poisons? Zhu Chen wants to demand that he explain everything, immediately--but it must be a long story, and she doesn't want to make his injury worse.

Sometimes she regrets raising a clever son!

The small, satisfied smile that plays on his lips tells her that he's following her thoughts as easily as she's following his. He takes another sip, and his expression shifts to worry, as he says, "But you were telling Master Wu something about your house?"

"Yes!" She shouldn't have forgotten; it might really be urgent. "Liang Huian didn't answer my ring, and someone had picked the lock. I didn't like to go in with only Dong Yuan for backup."

"Oh!" He laughs, which turns into a cough. She leans over towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder in concern, but he only shakes his head and drinks more medicinal tea. "That was... me. Liang Huian is alright, we only sent her away so she wouldn't get mixed up in--we had to keep a prisoner for a day, and this house is under observation. Those two women you saw are Bureau Eight. Master Wu was told, but I am not supposed to know, and neither are you."

There's something he's not telling her... but then, there's a lot he's not telling her. "A prisoner! Oh, I suppose it must have been necessary, but really. My house. I wish you would show more consideration."

"Apologies," he says, ducking his head. If she didn't know him so well, she might think him really contrite.

There is only a perfunctory rap on the door before Master Wu opens it and enters; this is his room, after all. Instead of sitting down with them, however, he paces restlessly. "How lucky that Sha Zhengtian is not here to see all three of us like this! I suspect he is already jealous. Madame, it is good to see you. How did the mission go? "

"A little jealousy would surely do him no harm," Zhu Chen laughs. She has missed Wu Zhenghao as well; it's nice to be flattered by a well-spoken man who doesn't mean anything by it. However, there is the awkward matter of her mission. "Ah--I discovered that the crown was stolen from Sun Lan some time back--she is seeking its return, but in the meantime, of course, she cannot sell what she doesn't possess. And so I have returned with the funds you entrusted me--or, at least, with some of them, but the difficulty, you see--"

"Mother." Lin Moniao interrupts her, his eyes bright. "Are you worried about money? Don't be. Excuse me a moment."

And with no more explanation than that, he gets to his feet and goes out the door. It would really be an unfortunate moment for Sha Zhengtian--or anyone else--to appear, but Zhu Chen trusts they won't, and simply looks inquiringly at Wu Zhenghao.

Wu Zhenghao clicks his tongue, shakes his head, and says, "I think he should tell you that one himself. It has been an eventful time while you were gone. Gao Chengyi is, alas, no longer with us; we are invited to the palace for the Mid-Autumn Festival, hence all this fuss and activity--even the God Himself is in Kaifeng. There is also an insidious threat to the sect that we mean to deal with tonight. Oh, and your son has secured us the Asura Trident, so for that and other reasons, I am not too sorry to have missed out on the Heart-Shaping Crown. You mustn't worry on that account. Why is Dong Yuan walking with a limp?"

"Oh! Is that--apologies, I shouldn't ask." If Lin Moniao has killed Gao Chengyi, it isn't something to be spoken of aloud, certainly not with Bureau Eight agents in the house. "As for Dong Yuan--poor boy, I only meant to keep him from chewing on your furniture, but in the end he was the one who was chewed on. He went swimming with the sailors on our ship, and a shark attacked. It was quite gruesome. He has made a remarkable recovery, considering. Why has Moniao had a qi deviation? Aren't you meant to be guiding his cultivation?"

Wu Zhenghao is not in the habit of looking guilty over anything, but he does sober up and speak with a respectful calm. "My guidance may indeed be at fault. I should have forbidden him from pushing for a breakthrough rather than advise him how to do it. But the sect leader approved, and so I let him decide for himself. I apologize, Madame. The auspices, for what it's worth, were good last night."

"No, I ought to apologize. If he truly did it on purpose--I know how difficult it is to dissuade him once he has set his mind on something. He is never disrespectful about it, of course. My--" Poor, stupid, stubborn, brilliant--Zhu Chen passes a hand across her eyes and quickly re-composes her expression. "What do you mean, deal with a threat?"

Wu Zhenghao presses his fingers together, pointing down; it isn't a gesture Zhu Chen has often seen him make. He is hesitating. "Now, don't be alarmed. There is a man, high up in the government, who has tried to take our disciples, set spies on us, steal from us, and finally set an assassin on some of our members. Not to mention he has some rather hideous... habits. What is at the root of his interest in us, we don't know for sure, but enough is enough. We are going after him at his own house."

"A high government official--in his own home in the capital--right under the noses of Bureau Eight?" If Wu Zhenghao meant not to alarm her, he's certainly going about it the wrong way. "From what you say, his behavior has been truly egregious, but even so--"

Before Zhu Chen can finish her thought, or Wu Zhenghao can reply, Lin Moniao returns to the room, not even bothering to knock, flushed as if he's been running. He falls to his knees by the table, bows, and holds out something to her as he straightens up. A scroll--no, a whole sheaf of papers, rolled up together.

"What on earth--" she says, flattening them out on the table. A deed to a place called Liu Manor. More than that--documentation with imperial seals, confirming the deed in his name--documents with her name--legal, official, unimpeachable. "Oh. Moniao." She throws her arms around him, squeezing her eyes shut. "My excellent son! No mother has ever had a better one."

"So you see," he says, glowing with pride, "there's really no need to worry, about the money."

--

No need to worry about the money--but money isn't everything. A few short hours later, on a quiet street in the best part of the city, two carriages bearing the insignia of a reputable rental agency stop on a street adjacent to the canal, beyond which lies a small park.

Tonight, the park is lit with lanterns, and someone has brought over a portable grill with which to roast chuan'r to sell to the gathered people. There aren't many, but those who are there are in good spirits. A sturdy lady in crimson robes and a sabre by her side is sitting on one of the public benches, cross-legged, and everyone turns towards her like flowers towards the sun. She, herself, is looking up.

A pair of imperial guards passed by earlier and interrogated the group; now they are returning, having fast-walked their route to come back and join the group for another opportunity to hear the Crimson Stargazer, Zhu Fei herself, read the stars right in front of them, and to prophecy to all comers, whether Jianghu, Empire, or layman--so long as they have money.

In the first carriage, with a muted light on the floor barely illuminating those within, Lin Moniao and his fellows wait for the time to move.

Lin Moniao looks back at his friends. In black robes stripped of sect emblems, with their heads wrapped in dark scarves, his and Heng Wanxue's memorable faces are hidden, and so is Yi Zifan's short hair, her most distinctive feature. Mu Liqiang's distinctive hair is also covered, but there's no disguising his height and bulk. Still, he's hardly the only enormous man in Kaifeng, or even the only one with a reason to be paying a call on Shi Minhua. Though Mo Henshui hasn't reported seeing anything of Hua Yan. Which is good--he's another dangerous enemy they don't need--and besides, Lin Moniao would rather not fight him. It may not be sensible, but he still has a lingering fondness for the man.

Then he looks up at the sky, waiting for the right moment to move, impatient as a leashed hunting dog. When a cloud passes over the gibbous moon, he jumps lightly from the carriage, trusting the others to follow.

The moment is ideal. Their feet hit the street soundlessly, and they dash like moon-shadows across the street, leaving Shi Jia on the driver's seat, huddled inside a simple servant's cloak.

Shi Minhua's house is quiet and dark here, with a faint light showing in the gate house; but the kitchen door is a safe distance from it next to the narrow gap between the houses. Mo Henshui has been successful--the lock has failed to click, and the door opens with a simple push.

As they all pile in in the dark, Heng Wanxue nearly stumbles over an empty barrel set by the door, only pulled back by Lin Moniao at the last moment. But they are in, they are safe--then Yi Zifan closes the door behind them, with a rather too loud a clack.

They freeze, but nothing happens. After a collective sigh, they look around at the room. Light is slanting in from two windows on each side, and as Lin Moniao's eyes adjust, he can make out the layout of the room, including the door leading to the first inner courtyard. There is also a narrow staircase leading up; the second floor of this first building in the compound is only a low attic space.

Yi Zifan creeps to the door that leads to the front courtyard, while the others hang back. She can see lamplight burning in the gatehouse, so the guards are likely on watch there, but the stretch of courtyard between here and the next building is clear, and Mo Henshui said he thought that the next building was unoccupied; perhaps used for storage.

Somewhere back there are the prisoners--her patient. They'll have to cross the main house to get there. But one step at a time. She turns back to wave the others forward, then she darts forward across the empty space. Lin Moniao catches up quickly, Mu Liqiang only a little behind. Heng Wanxue is the last to go, and by a stroke of ill luck, her shadow falls over the courtyard just as one of the guards casually glances out. She ducks behind a pillar, and the guard turns back, seemingly without noticing anything strange.

But Lin Moniao's hand is already going for a weapon, and he's already turning back towards the gates. Yi Zifan had sensed this when she examined him earlier--Mu Liqiang's qi deviation may have left him with no more violence in his spirit to contend with than before, but the same cannot be said for Lin Moniao. She clamps a hand around his wrist at the same time as one of Mu Liqiang's comes down on his shoulder.

For a moment it seems that he'll shake them off--but then he subsides, as Heng Wanxue makes it the rest of the way across the courtyard to join them.

Here, they are in the shadow of the low roof, outside the corridor joining the east and west houses. The corridor is dark, and though the doors on the side of this courtyard are closed, the one they landed by--furthest from the gatehouse--falls open at a touch.

They are in a small, bare room. On their right is an open door to a hallway. The hallway is bare and simple, though the wood frames of the windows are intricately carved, and the floor shines with cleanliness where the faint light falls on it. Ahead of them is another door, larger, with a lotus carved on the door, with panels of paper.

Heng Wanxue taps Yi Zifan and Lin Moniao's arms; Mu Liqiang is behind her, so she stops them all. She points at the lotus door and shakes her head.

The west house is a no-go. At least they are out of sight. They pass quietly through to the second gate, and catch a glimpse of the courtyard bathed in moonlight and the three-story main residence with soft golden light coming from the second floor windows. Another stretch of corridor, and they are at the mirror image of the lotus door. Here, the image on the door is of a coiled serpent.

Heng Wanxue presses her ear right up to the edge of the paper, then quietly tries the door. It's locked. She turns to Lin Moniao and gestures between herself and him. Would he like a go, or should she?

With an acknowledging bow, Lin Moniao reaches under his scarf for the lockpick tucked into his hair and works the lock open smoothly. As he's taking the lockpick back out, he feels a loose part of the mechanism and gives the pick an extra twist. Anyone following them will have a hard time getting that door open, even if they have the original key.

Before them is a short hallway, mostly taken up by a staircase leading up, and an archway to a wide sitting room, with doors opening to a foyer, and beyond it, the central courtyard. At the other end of the room is another section closed off by a wall, with another archway, symmetrical. Everything here is slightly dusty, and though the downstairs has been swept and there is a table at the center where one might take tea, the shelves are empty. Mo Henshui was right--no-one lives here.

Across the room and through the archway--according to their map, they should reach the main residence through the next small room, so Lin Moniao steps aside to let Heng Wanxue have a turn with the lock.

She touches her chin at him, cocky, and gets to work. Deft as her lockpicking is, she doesn't manage to sabotage it. Nevermind--time is of the essence.

They are once again in a small room with three doors--the way they came, the way to the foyer of the main residence, and ahead--inside the eastern wing of the main residence. This is where they have to pass through to get to the back.

Heng Wanxue tries the door, very quietly. It, too, is locked. She sighs in frustration, then presses her ear on the door. There is no light showing through, not under the door.

She holds up her hand, then gestures to the right and up. She's heard something, but it's not close.

No time to lose, then. Lin Moniao sets to work on the lock, and it opens just as easily as the other one.

They find themselves in a well-appointed reading room, the floor raised on each side, with two heavy writing desks on opposite sides with brushes and ink ready, and shelves bearing porcelain and bronze treasures. On the left is an open archway into the central room downstairs; it is dark, but some golden light spills from above on the large staircase just glimpsed beyond the archway. Now they are through the door, those with sharp ears can hear what Heng Wanxue heard: a zither being plucked upstairs. Whoever it is, they are not playing; it is more likely the instrument is being tuned.

On the wall opposite is a window--and a door. The final courtyard is within sight.

Lin Moniao's gaze is drawn to the light and the staircase. At least one person is up and about now, and Lin Moniao finds it a little difficult to imagine Shi Minhua spending his evenings tuning his zither. Still, this is what they came for, and he wants to--

Soon enough. The prisoners first. If they are going to pin this on Mo Yun, it will help if Mo Yun is there, and really, if anyone deserves a chance to kill Shi Minhua, he does.

So Lin Moniao pulls his look away and crosses the floor with the others, where Heng Wanxue is already working on the lock to the door in the courtyard. She throws him an exasperated look--what kind of person locks so many doors in his own house? But even as she does, the door swings open.

The final courtyard, like the first, is long and narrow, but here it is divided into three with short walls, each with an archway, and so their sight of the other end of the house is obscured. The roof of the last building is slanted inwards, creating a long wall at the back and a short wall facing the main residence. There is a door and a window opposite them, and they can see a larger door and another window through the gate.

There is no light under the door in front of them, and the door has no paper or silk lattice, but is of solid wood. The window has been shuttered and boarded with three planks. The window in the center parting is not shuttered, but no light is visible there, either.

The whole evening has been like a dream: the silence of the empty, moonlit house, and now light and conviviality that Yi Zifan is completely set apart from. The sound of a zither being tuned has turned to soft music, and from the westernmost end of the house, more light, laughter, and one man's voice rising above the rest, carefree and somewhat slurred. Is it the man they've come to kill?

It hardly seems real. Yi Zifan has never killed, never meant to. She only wants to get to her patient.

The dirt in front of the door is scuffed. Someone has been in and out today; more than one person, by the looks of it. But when she approaches the door, all is silent.

"Mo Yun?" she calls. She keeps her voice soft, pitched only to carry through the door, but it's the loudest noise she's made all evening, and it seems to echo through the darkness. "I have word from your father."

There is a clink and a grunt from within. A dragging sound, and another clink, and then nothing.

It may not be him. Yi Zifan looks back at the others, but no one moves to stop her, so she lifts the bar off the door.

Mu Liqiang steps up to Yi Zifan as soon as she pushes the door, his long dagger out. Inside, the room is pitch black. Even the window on the high wall is shuttered, only its outline faintly visible above. The only light reaching the floor is coming from the open doorway.

It is Mo Yun, and there is no one else in the room. He is shirtless, strung up by chains with both hands above his head and his feet only just reaching the ground, from a long bar running between the walls that seems to serve no other purpose.

Here, too, though the floor is of rough wood and not the fine polished hardwood of the main residence, it is neatly swept. He must have scuffed it with a foot to make the dragging sound. The furniture here, such as can be made out, is scarce.

He is conscious, but swaying with the effort to stay standing.

There's fury in the set of Lin Moniao's shoulders as he turns to Mu Liqiang. "Pick me up," he says.

Heng Wanxue stays pressed against the wall outside, watching for movement or sound from the next courtyard or the house. Mu Liqiang lifts Lin Moniao without a word. Settled on his shoulders, it is short work to pick the lock on the chains. Mo Yun slumps to the ground. He is conscious, but all he does is put his head between his knees and take a few deep gulps of air, his back heaving.

Mu Liqiang puts Lin Moniao back on the floor. "I can carry him," he whispers, close to Lin Moniao's ear.

Yi Zifan drops into a crouch next to Mo Yun and places her hands on his back. She gathers her energies to send a healing pulse to him, but he's so badly damaged; he's taken so much punishment in the last days, it's beyond her ability to heal. She lowers her hands and drops her head, tears stinging her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Lin Moniao looks from Mu Liqiang to Yi Zifan, and after a moment tells her, "Take him back to his father."

"I can't," she whispers back, horrified. "I can't leave you, you might need me--"

"Do it." He takes a step towards her, fists clenched. "Let me, God, let me fix one thing. How can I face Mo Henshui?"

She knows his anger isn't for her, or for her patient, but she wraps an arm around Mo Yun anyway, instinctively. "At least--we can free the rest of the prisoners first," she says. "Maybe I can help them... and Mo Yun can let us know which cells we should avoid."

Lin Moniao glares. Yi Zifan squares her shoulders and looks steadily back. Finally he nods, and she lifts Mo Yun to her shoulders and follows him out of the cell.

Mo Yun moans as he is picked up, and tries to kick against the floor, but he's too hurt to do much of anything else.

Once he's out, Heng Wanxue bites her tongue to keep from exclaiming. She catches Mo Yun from the other side, easing the weight on Yi Zifan. "Mo Yun?" she whispers. He grunts, his head lolling. "Shh, shh... We're getting you out, it's okay. You remember me?"

Heng Wanxue gives Yi Zifan a helpless look. Mo Yun is too hurt to help them, or even acknowledge who it is who's holding him up.

Outside the cell, where she can see a little better, Yi Zifan sets Mo Yun down and looks him over. Some of the wounds have opened up on his back again, and his lips are also cracked and bleeding, his face hollowed out by pain and thirst. She bandages him as best as she can in a hurry, lifts a flask of water to his lips. He hasn't been drugged to sleep, as some of the prisoners may have been, but the antidote she brought for them should wake him up a little as well, and help counteract the effects of the opium tincture which is the best thing she has for pain.

"You're a miracle," Heng Wanxue tells her when Mo Yun stirs, his eyes sharpening as he coughs on the medicine. "Listen, Mo Yun, it's me. We spoke to your father. I am so sorry. He wants you back. Do you hear? He's been trying to win your freedom. We're taking you out of here."

Mo Yun shakes his head and shifts back. Wanxue persists. "You've seen him, haven't you? You saw him yesterday. Look..." She reaches into her sleeve and pulls out a small wooden horse, a child's toy. He stares at it, then at her, eyes still suspicious.

Wanxue explains in whispers. Meanwhile, Mu Liqiang creeps closer to the partition and peers around it. Nothing's changed so far. Nobody's coming at them.

Heng Wanxue helps Mo Yun back to his feet and up against Yi Zifan's shoulder, and he leans heavily against her. Then Wanxue creeps to Lin Moniao and whispers in his ear. "There are prisoners in the central room, and guards in the far end. I asked if there was another warrior like him, and he said yes. And then he did this." She mimes her fingers plucking a zither and points up at the main residence. "There was another thing he wanted to say, but..." She shakes her head. "I didn't understand."

"If he could write it--" But even though there's a desk with writing materials one room behind them, there's no time to set Mo Yun up at it, not to mention, if he already doesn't write well, a day spent hanging from his wrists and a mixture of drugs on top of that is unlikely to have improved his skill. "Never mind. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it. You did well." Lin Moniao squeezes Heng Wanxue's hand, too hard.

It's hard to wait, to keep his word to Yi Zifan, to try to think through the blood pounding in his ears. He wants to kill the person who did this. He wants to make him hurt, make him bleed, make him scream--

He did this.

Yi Zifan tugs on Mu Liqiang's sleeve to bring his head down to whispering level. "Will you carry him a while? While I check on the others?"

Staying low, to keep out of sight of anyone on the floors above, they approach the central room.

With Mu Liqiang carrying him half over his shoulder like an oversized toddler, they are spared the noise Mo Yun's feet would have made dragging on the ground. Here, the light and voices in the last room are clear, but the central one is dark and quiet. Heng Wanxue cautiously raises her head to look sideways into one of the rooms, and drops right back down again. "Door open," she mouths, and gestures between the western and the central rooms. There is a door open between them, light coming into the central room. If they enter the room where Mo Yun indicated the prisoners are kept, there will be nothing between them and the guards.

That complicates things--but by the sound of it, the guards aren't being terribly vigilant at the moment. If they act quickly, they can lock the guards in and hope to get the prisoners out before the guards can stop them. Lin Moniao meets Heng Wanxue's eyes, then points to the door to the guards' room down the corridor and twists his wrist as if he's locking it--or jamming the lock. Then he gestures for Yi Zifan to get ahead of him, and as she lifts the bar on the prisoners' door, he darts inside.

Mu Liqiang looks between them and gets the gist of the plan; his body coils, ready for action. He is a step behind Lin Moniao, still carrying Mo Yun.

This room is not as dark as the cell where Mo Yun had been kept, as light flows in through the windows above on the back wall, and the ones to the courtyard, and from the open doorway. There are several pallet beds in the room, along with baskets and dark shapes of furniture, and as they bounce in, there is a low cry and a scuffle, at least one head popping up as a darker shadow.

Lin Moniao has barely any time to react to that, to get to the door. He has time to glimpse three men inside, all kneeling, now exclaiming, scrambling to stand; long daggers at their sides, and a whip hanging on the wall. Then he slams the door and crouches to lock and jam the door, with Mu Liqiang leaning on the door to keep it shut.

As the others work on the door, Yi Zifan comes in to check on the prisoners. It seems like her preparations weren't necessary; there are three of them, a youth, a young boy, and an old man, and they all seem healthy, if startled to be walked in on in the middle of the night by four strangers in black, with hidden faces.

The door secured--or as secured as Lin Moniao can make it in such a hurry, it should hold for a little bit, at least--he turns to the prisoners. He opens his mouth to speak, and then he realizes that he can't, not if he wants to remain anonymous. His voice is as memorable as his face now.

He clamps his lips shut in frustration and looks up at Mu Liqiang in mute appeal.

Mu Liqiang nods. A heavy body slams into the door on the other side, angry voices coming through muffled, but the guards are far too late. Heng Wanxue's shadow shows up in the frame of the door outside and she signals success.

Mu Liqiang holds his hands out to the trio of prisoners. There is no more reason to keep quiet, so he speaks to them soothingly and quickly. The young boy actually rushes up to hug his arm, though the teenager looks reticent. The old man seems confused, but accepts a hand up from the pallet and straightens up his simple trousers. All of them are wearing identical, nondescript pale tunics and trousers, silver in the moonlight. At a gesture, they follow, and Mu Liqiang herds them out of the room and into the courtyard.

There's no more use in trying to stay low, with the racket the guards are making, and the crowd they have to herd now. They can only go as fast as possible, and hope for the best--if anyone upstairs sees them, they can hope to outrun their pursuers, anyway.

Lin Moniao and Heng Wanxue are in the lead, and Yi Zifan and Mu Liqiang, still carrying Mo Yun, bring up the rear, herding the other prisoners between them. Once in the reading room, Yi Zifan draws her staff and swings it at the window lattice. Wood splinters and silk tears, and the sound has given away their location again, but never mind--they only have to stay one step ahead. She hops out of the broken window and into the alley, reaching out to help the prisoners through. Finally, Mu Liqiang passes Mo Yun over, settling him across her shoulders. No time for goodbyes or anything else--she runs, as fast as she can under his weight, to where the carriage with his father is waiting.

Lin Moniao, Heng Wanxue, and Mu Liqiang go the other way, towards the central staircase of the main house.

Even as they were handing prisoners through, they heard exclamations from above and running steps coming down the stairs; now, as they turn, they face their next challenge.

A slim youth in a tunic and trousers reminiscent of the prisoners, but much finer, has an eight-string zither under one arm and a snarl on his face. His hair is loose and his other hand empty. An even younger teenager, this one very pretty and dressed in silks, is hovering cautiously on the staircase. "Go!" the older youth shouts at him, pointing towards the central courtyard. "Get the captain!"

The boy darts towards the courtyard.

Lin Moniao and Heng Wanxue both sprint after the boy, but she is a fraction faster and tackles him to the ground. He cries out as he thumps against the floor and scrambles to get up, but she has him pinned.

A third figure is descending the stairs at a tranquil pace, heavy robes brushing against the stairs. The tip of an unsheathed sword taps lightly against each stair. "Now who is this disturbing my evening?" says a cultured voice. "Bullying my servant, scaring my guards? Tut."

Shi Minhua is neither tall nor short, slim or fat, beautiful or ugly; his features are pleasant, with high cheekbones and almond eyes, and a trim fashionable beard, a well-maintained stately man of fifty or so. He keeps the tip of his jian pointing down, its empty sheath in his other hand. He smiles grimly as he turns to the trio of intruders. "Ah."

The teenager grits his teeth and raises his zither like a bludgeoning weapon.

Lin Moniao can't be afraid. Not in front of Mu Liqiang and Heng Wanxue. He led them here, and now--will he have to watch them pay for his arrogance? That's what his uncle does, Shi Jia said.

Lin Moniao sets his jaw. If he is afraid, he won't let this piece of filth see it. "Your servant? Your guards? You have nothing, Shi Minhua," he hisses. He turns from the man and deliberately addresses the youth with the zither. "Would you like to die for Shi Minhua? I would be pleased to arrange it. But you don't have to."

"I'll gladly die fighting you trash!" the youth cries defiantly, but his grip on his zither tightens, and his eye shifts nervously between Lin Moniao and Mu Liqiang in the doorway to the east wing. Mu Liqiang's long dagger is out and readied, and he looms menacingly forward.

"Don't rise to the bait, Xiao Mao," Shi Minhua says soothingly. "The wall, pet."

There is a guan dao hanging on the wall. Xiao Mao turns around nervously before spotting it and darting towards it, almost stumbling over his own feet. Mu Liqiang steps between him and the weapon. Xiao Mao drops low and rolls under Mu Liqiang's outstretched arm, but just as he unwinds from the roll to launch himself at the guan dao, Mu Liqiang's foot shoots out in front of his and he trips to the ground. He recovers with another roll, but by then the guan dao is in Mu Liqiang's hand, holding it tauntingly out of reach.

Xiao Mao spits on the ground in front of him and bares his teeth at Mu Liqiang, staring him down as the two face off.

Meanwhile, Heng Wanxue has tied the younger boy's sleeves together around the bend of his knees, effectively hogtying him, and gets off him while he rolls and wails, snapping out her whip.

There's no more thought. There's only Lin Moniao's enemy, with his taunting smile and his suffocating stench of death. Lin Moniao's hand closes on a carved wooden bird in his pocket--not his token, but a gift from Master Wu, a replacement for his familiar dagger. He snaps out his arm and the bird flies unerringly, spinning razor blades springing from its sides.

Shi Minhua looks to the side for a moment, distracted by the mechanical bird's darting movement, and as he does, it hits him in the throat, razors digging into his flesh. Lin Moniao is spattered with blood. He can almost taste it even through the cloth covering his face, and he lets out a satisfied snarl, licking his lips.

Shi Minhua totters backwards and clutches his throat. Blood seeps through his fingers, but he is still standing; with the excess of elixir swirling in Lin Moniao's dantian, he can see without any effort the qi the man is using to stop the bleeding. A lesser warrior would be on the floor now, spilling his life on the ground. Shi Minhua's face twists in a sneer and he locks cold eyes with Lin Moniao. His grip on his blade's hilt tightens.

Then Xiao Mao is there between them, swinging his zither at Lin Moniao's head like a club. The wild swing misses, but he's placed himself between Lin Moniao and his enemy. "No!"

The familiar sound of a whip lashing out cuts through the room, and there is a terrible cry behind Xiao Mao. He twists around and cries out at the sight of his master whipping around, falling to his knees, writhing in pain. Blood soaks the front of his fine embroidered silk robes as he claws at his eyes. Heng Wanxue snaps her whip back.

Lin Moniao lunges past Xiao Mao, pushing Shi Minhua onto his back and following him down to the floor. He draws a dagger--one of his backup daggers, plain, functional, and anonymous--and leans in close, mouth right next to Shi Minhua's ear.

"Shi Jia sends his greetings," he whispers. "He regrets he could not be here."

Then he plunges his dagger into Shi Minhua's neck, clear through, pinning him to the floor.

The man twitches, ruined neck straining against the hilt for a moment, mouth full of blood, choking on it. The cold eyes are ruined messes, and Heng Wanxue's whiplash has broken his nose.

"No! No!" Xiao Mao screams. Mu Liqiang grabs his arms to pull him back, and for a moment his feet tread air, before he smashes his head back and into Mu Liqiang's jaw, and slithers out of his momentarily slackened grasp. Lin Moniao hears the scream, senses more than sees the young man rushing towards him, reaches for another weapon, whirling--

But instead of attacking Lin Moniao or protecting himself, Xiao Mao goes to his master, touches his still forehead, his shoulder. He grasps the hilt of Lin Moniao's dagger and pulls it out.

He is too late. Shi Minhua is dead.

There's no threat. The enemy is dead. The red rage begins to recede from Lin Moniao's vision, leaving him shaking, empty.

It's over. There's nothing left to do. It's over.

To be concluded.
 

Comments

[bookblather]

Oh, wow, what a heckuva fight scene you all wrote there. I love how you worked the (probably) dice rolls in; it goes very smoothly unless you're looking for it.

[minutia_r]

Yeah, a lot of that was the outcome of dice rolls, glad the seams were not overly visible!